


In My Mind's Eye

by badluckvixen13 (alteringviews)



Series: 1 Million for Black Hermione [37]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Hermione Granger, Book Worm Viktor Krum, F/M, Quidditch Player Hermione Granger, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:22:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteringviews/pseuds/badluckvixen13
Summary: Inspired by the trait-switching trope.Hermione Granger is the youngest Professional Quidditch Player and she just became the first female Seeker to win the World Cup. Awesome, right? Except people won't leave her alone when she wants to read and McGonagall has made her the unofficial tour guide for the transfer student from Bulgaria.Why does he seem to not want anything to do with her and why is he her type?





	1. World Cup

In her few years of flying, she’d learned one thing: trust the currents. They were her secret weapon, something she liked to attribute to whatever magical ancestor she had that had deemed her worthy of the gift of magic some odd centuries later. Yes, she was good with a wand--hell she excelled at school, top of her class, but it wasn’t something that the public really cared about. 

No one really cared about Hermione Granger--they cared about number 13 of the Chudley Cannons, the star seeker who’d led them all the way to the World Cup this year. Youngest seeker bar none, best seeker perher stats and a hell of a personality, Hermione Granger had gone from the Know-It-All Mudblood to a household name in a matter of years.

She had to remember to thank Madame Hooch.

“10 points for the Canons!”

A quick glance at the scoreboard told her that they were near enough in points that catching the Snitch would give them a decisive victory. She closed her eyes and tilted her broom up, shooting up and causing the seeker behind her to follow her. 

The wind whistled, singing a soft song around her, her heart racing and then…

She let go.

Falling at the speed of gravity’s pull past the Seeker who only snickered as she fell past, she counted the beats of her heart and listened to the current. Her broom was  following after her, nearing as fast as she fell. There was a beater to her left. A chaser zooming past to her right. The seeker had stopped. She listened closer to the telltale flutter of the small metallic wings interrupting the currents with their own flight path.

Getting closer...

“ _ Has Granger fallen off her broom? _ ”

Just below her, getting closer.

Her coach was probably having a heart attack, but she ignored that, turning in the air and aiming down as she lined up with her broom.

Closer, close enough--

She reached out and tilted her broom carrying her into a circle that landed her on her broom with the snitch in hand. She smirked, gliding past the chaser near her and held the Snitch high. 

“ _ I don’t believe it ladies and gentlemen! For the first time in wizarding history, a woman has caught the Snitch in the World Cup, winning the game! _ ”

She told them later that being a woman had nothing to do with it. She’d been hit with bludgers, thrown off her broom, and such just as much, if not more, as her male counterparts. Her team drags her out to drinks where men who tower over her,  trying to stroke her ego and such sidle up to her at the bar. It’s enough to make her hurl especially Ron and Lavender show up with their usually obnoxious air. For goodness sakes, she wasn’t even a full year past wizarding legal yet.

“Granger,” Lavender greeted. “Pretty good match.”

Hermione nodded, “Yeah… World Cup and all that…”

Ron winced as Hermione turned to leave, “You two enjoy. I’m going to go home and take a nice long bath.”

“Alone,” Lavender taunted and turned. 

Hermione snorted, “Have a nice night.”

She floo’d to the bar down the street from her parent’s house in London, walked the mile and refused to let the tears fall when she entered the door. Her Mom and Dad had passed away years ago it seemed, just before she’d gone pro. Hogwarts refused to let her play for the Gryffindor team, quite happy to have Harry Potter as their Seeker, leaving her to spend her school days in the library now that Quidditch Season was over.

To think, it was seventh year already and still… the house felt as empty as ever. 

Crookshanks purred, padding his fluffy body around the couch towards her to leap into her lap. 

“Hey Crook’... I won a shiny new Snitch for you,” she said, producing it from her pocket. He bat at it. “We won, Crook’... can you believe it? Me? Breaking a Quidditch record…”

Considering how terrified she’d been in her first year of the idea of flight. Harry had been the closest thing to a friend that year and he’d been diligent about teaching her to fly. What he couldn’t teach her about were the currents, she’d learned that all on her own and pretty soon someone noticed. Madame Hooch had let her use one of the better practice brooms. She only smirked thinking of Oliver who’d come back and accidentally caught her flying around on the pitch. 

She lay back on the couch, stroking Crookshanks gently. 

After that first time of really letting loose and crashing into the Black Lake, it seemed that the currents had ruled her life. 

What now? She wondered. 

Where else was there to go?


	2. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward...

_ Stubborn _ , she thought, observing him from the stacks as he sat at the table with his  Bulgarian to English dictionary and textbooks around him. 

_ Hard-working, independent-- _

**_Handsome_ ** is what she landed on before lifting the book she was looking for from the shelf. 

Minerva told her about him in hopes that the two, very clear outsiders could be friends. He was an exchange student at Hogwarts for just his last year of school. He’d even been sorted into Gryffindor house, yet his issue with the English language had proved to be a larger obstacle than anyone imagined. 

_ Viktor Krum, _ she thought curiously.  _ Bulgarian _ ,  _ incredibly good marks on all of his exams, intelligent, loner... pure-blood. _

She swallowed, lifted her chin and walked towards him. 

“Hello, Viktor,” she greeted. 

He looked up, seemingly shocked into doing a double take of her. She didn’t cringe, knowing that she wasn’t exactly what most people imagined when they thought Hogwarts, when they thought “Hermione Granger” either. Her wild curly hair was tamed into a thick braid, though most of it dissented with no regards for how she felt on the matter. Her smooth brown skin, darker more so because of her trip to Greece after Quidditch season was over. She was a bit on the short side, athletic and her voice was gentle, warm though. Most people thought of “Hermione Granger” and assumed arrogance from her smirking photos.

There’s something a sound in her periphery that sounded like the normal twittering of students gawking at her while in the library. 

“I’m Hermione,” she greeted holding out her hand, “Professor McGonagall asked me to check-in and see how you were doing.”

Viktor looked at her hand then to her face, “I know who you are. Play Quidditch.”

Hermione winced, “Well yes, but here I’m just Hermione.”

Viktor’s eyes drifted towards the group of boys who were so very clearly caught between glaring at him and admiring her. 

“Right. Am fine. Thank you.”

Hermione swallowed, “Are you in need of anything? There are better books for reference if you’d like.”

“Will find them on own, thank you.”

Well, she knew a slammed door when she heard one. 

_ So much your plan McGonagall. _

Hermione nodded, “Okay. Well, if you need anything, feel free to reach out.”

Viktor nodded hesitantly, seemingly cringing away from her as she did her best to gracefully bow out of the awkward situation before moving further down and setting up to study. She doesn’t let it bother her, but he feels his frustration rising over his shoulders and down the table. She can hear him murmuring in Bulgarian and glanced over to where his books are stacked. 

She’s impressed really and in her heart of hearts, she can’t quite understand why he’s so fascinating to her. Other than being handsome and clearly unaffected by her fame. 

_ Definitely a very large plus on the list. _

“‘Mione,” Harry called coming up to her and sliding into the chair across from him. “Please tell me you’re done?”

Hermione smiled, closing her book. “What is it, Harry?”

He hung his head sliding his paper towards her, “He hates me, Hermione. I don’t understand it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “He doesn’t hate you, Harry. You think he would have married your Mum if he did?”

“What’s she have to do with me?”

Hermione shook her head thinking to get him on that later before looking over his potions work.

“Well, for starters it’s myrtle rood, not wormwood.”

Harry winced, “And…?”

“You’re missing a turn and you switched the order of four and five.”

Harry sighed and took his parchment back, “How do you do that?”

Hermione snorted, “I do a lot more than just fly around all day, you know?”

Harry chuckled and thanked her before correcting his work. Hermione opened one of her own books with the intention to get something done, yet her attention kept drifting over to Viktor. The man was radiating frustration down the table, she didn’t need any special magical propensities to know what frustrated scribbling sounded like.

She’d done enough of it on her own to know.

“Okay, how about now?”

Hermione glanced over it, “Good. It’ll probably make a great poison. Just enough time to slowly --”

His expression plummeted, “Poison? It’s supposed to reverse the Black Vein hex.”

She pressed her lips together and her eyes widened before choking on a laugh. 

“Well, Harry… perhaps we should start from the beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know why I love the idea of Harry mixing up potions, but I do.


End file.
